Garland Jeffries takes the phone from his ear and shouts to Claire, “Hey, you hooked me up with another 70-year-old. If people knew that two 70-year-olds were talking right now, they might banish us to another planet.”

That’s OK, I tell him. We get to pick the planet.

“That’s right,” said the veteran rocker who will play Friday night at the Linda Norris Auditorium. “We’ll pick our own planet: Planet 70.”

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Now we’re laughing so hard, the interview almost stops before it begins. I’ll be 70 in about a week, and Garland first tells me he’s 71. When I correct him, he said, “Yeah, but I’ll be 71 shortly.”

He’s like a kid who is 4½ but said he’s almost 5. Who’d have thought 50 years ago that the Rolling Stones would still be pumping out two and a half hours of hard rock into their 70s? Or that I’d be writing about my favorite kind of music 45 years later and 4,000 interviews into my obsession? Or that Garland Jeffries would still be touring and releasing albums. For many of us fortunate enough to have our health, age has become a laminated backstage pass that gives us access to do what we want.

“Here we are at this time,” Jeffries said, “Two 70-year-olds. My fans love my songs and have from the beginning, and they’re around. They still exist, and now I’m deciding to come back and play some more. My daughter is really on her way, and I’m playing all the time and thinking of new songs and new albums. That’s all I want to do.”

Sometimes it feels like we’re walking a tightrope. In December, I lost my best friend from my Army days. Garland lost Lou Reed, a friend he said made his four years at Syracuse University tolerable. Both were from Brooklyn, and both rocked their own way, never bowing to the suits at the record labels. That may have hindered their commercial success — Garland more than Lou — but the fans of both are rabid and stalwart.

“I loved the guy,” Garland said. “We really were very fond of each other. I missed him immediately. We’re both New Yorkers, and I think perhaps we both influenced each other in a sense. We had similar ideas about freedom and respect for others and concern and interested in the way the world works.”

Like Lou Reed, Garland catches a wave with each of his songs and rides that wave, cresting and maximizing the energy of his muse. Peter Wolf, Willie Nile, the late Willie deVille and Eric Burdon all have that same quality. It’s like your whole life is focused on the moment, balanced but moving at warp speed. You could fall at any time, but what a way to go. Not many of the younger rockers have that. It’s not about wisdom so much as it is a satisfaction, something Mick Jagger couldn’t get at 20 but has at 71.

Jeffries’ latest album is “Truth Serum,” a CD that finds him at the top of his game, and he’s currently writing for the next one. Perhaps his best release, however, is 1991’s “Don’t Call Me Buckwheat.” His father was African-American and his mom was Puerto Rican. The album deals at length with the pain and confusion of not belonging to white or black society. The label didn’t want to release it because of the title and the cover photo of a 4-year-old Garland in a Brooklyn Dodgers uniform.

“I remember talking to Paul Simon,” Jeffries said, “‘You gotta have that on your cover. You can’t not have that on your cover.’ (The photo was taken) the day Jackie Robinson played his first game, April 15, 1947, Ebbets Field, Brooklyn. It was the day (the first major league black player) Jackie Robinson played his first game. I was 4 years old. My father took me to that game. If you give yourself a little room, you might say that that was the beginning for me.”

Garland Jeffries in concert

Where: Linda Norris Auditorium, 339 Central Ave., Albany

When: 8 p.m. Friday

Tickets: $18, www.wamcarts.org or 518-465-5233

Callout: Like Lou Reed, Garland catches a wave with each of his songs and rides that wave, cresting and maximizing the energy of his muse.